


i feel like i win when i lose

by girlsonthetv



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crimson Flower Route, Ferdinand Is A Puppy, Hair Washing, Injury Recovery, M/M, Post-Timeskip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 19:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20551649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsonthetv/pseuds/girlsonthetv
Summary: Ferdinand's grown his hair out - and it requires quite a bit more maintenance than it used to. This wouldn't be a problem if he'd changed even a little bit since his school days.It always goes like this - Ferdinand charges ahead, and Hubert provides cover.





	i feel like i win when i lose

“Your hair has been getting long.” Hubert said one gray afternoon as they were sitting at the long table in the cardinals’ room, slowly but surely working their way through mountains of papers. The things they did for Lady Edelgard’s sake. 

Ferdinand felt self-consciously at the back of his head, where his mane of orange hair had come past his shoulders at some point when he wasn’t looking. “That is a bit of an understatement, Hubert.”

“Perhaps.” Ferdinand thought he heard a hint of a stifled laugh in Hubert’s voice, and it makes him blush.

“I simply haven’t had the time to visit a barber. We’ve been so busy...” 

“Yes, I understand. I heard Dorothea compliment it the other day.” 

“To get a compliment from her is perhaps the highest achievement a nobleman can aspire to.” Ferdinand chuckled. “It is a shame I am not doing it on purpose.” 

The scratching of their separate quills filled the air with a pleasant white noise. “What do you think?” Ferdinand asked. 

“About what?” 

“About my hair.” Ferdinand felt like a schoolboy, asking such a thing, but they were friends, right? Quite close friends, who bought each other beverages? Friends asked each other for opinions regarding appearances, right? 

The scratching of Hubert’s quill stopped, and the room was completely silent, save for the rapid beating of Ferdinand’s heart in his ears. There was something wrong with him. 

“I think you look like a spaniel.” Hubert said after what felt like an eternity, then picked up his quill and resumed writing. 

“...What is that supposed to mean?!” Ferdinand asked indignantly. 

“Spaniels are hunting dogs, meant to flush game out of bushes.” 

“I know what a spaniel is!” Ferdinand honestly did not know why he put up with this man at times. “Why did you call me one?!” 

“The texture of your hair and its newfound length call to mind the ears of a spaniel. Besides,” Hubert put down his quill again and looked up at Ferdinand. “You told me not to compliment you unless it was in writing. So I made a theoretically neutral comment, so you could interpret it how you wished.” 

Ferdinand noticed with a pang of affection that Hubert was trying to hide a blush - unsuccessfully, since he was so pale. “I - thank you, Hubert. That is... kind of you, in your way.” 

“I try.” Hubert was avoiding looking him in the eye. “Can we get back to work now?” 

Ferdinand picked up his own pen. “We certainly can.” 

Later, when Byleth was walking the hallways calling everyone down for dinner, Ferdinand stood up and stretched. “Goodness me, I did not realize how long we had been sitting down. Will you walk with me to the dining hall?” He said before he could stop himself. 

“Of course.” 

Eating in the dining hall after everyone but the Black Eagles had gone always felt strange. When they were in school, the room was always full to bursting with chatter, and while the Eagles did talk among themselves as they ate, it didn’t come close to the levels of noise reached prior. More so than that, the room itself felt heavy with memories of times long past, people Ferdinand missed so much he could hardly stand it, and he hesitated to think about it too much lest the weight of those memories crush him. 

When he felt like this, he tended to look next to him, at Hubert, sipping his coffee that he drank at all hours of the day, and felt reassured. Byleth always sat the two of them next to each other, for reasons only she could fathom, and at first he hated it, but now he couldn’t imagine sitting near anyone else. 

They went to bed early that night, preparing to fight the next morning, and Ferdinand couldn't help but wonder if Hubert was able to sleep as he drifted off. 

/

"You insufferable idiot." Hubert hissed. 

"It is truly nothing, Hubert, I can walk by myself." Ferdinand snapped. Truth be told, he was embarrassed - this was a fairly routine fight with bandits along a merchant's route, and Ferdinand had gotten reckless and rushed forward to flush them out. He succeeded in his task, but earned a nasty clip on the arm for his trouble. 

"You wouldn't have gotten hurt if you hadn't made such an elementary mistake." Hubert almost snarled, and Ferdinand was taken aback by the real anger in his tone, rather than simple annoyance. "Really, I thought we had dispensed with this in our school days." 

"I - I know that, Hubert." Hubert rarely, if ever, mentioned their time at school, and one could be forgiven for thinking that he had sprung fully formed from Edelgard's head to serve her, like the spirit of knowledge from Brigid's myths and legends. "Are you perhaps thinking of the very first mock battle? When I ran ahead, and you covered me?" 

Hubert did not respond, but rather adjusted himself on his horse and snapped the reins. The horse broke into a healthy trot, and Ferdinand had to grip the back of Hubert's jacket with his good hand to keep balanced. Hubert didn't seem to notice it, or mind if he did. 

Linhardt's verdict, once they were back at the monastery, was that Ferdinand would not lose the arm, but he would have to keep it in a sling for a while. Ferdinand couldn't help but pout as Linhardt turned on his heel and left. This did not escape Hubert's notice, to put it lightly. "Why are you upset? You could have lost that limb if that sword had come even a little bit closer to the bone. You should be happy you don't have to adapt to an entirely new fighting style." 

"I am, Hubert, please don't misunderstand." There was a pleading note in Ferdinand's voice he wasn't entirely cognizant of, but that made Hubert fall silent. "It's just... I do not know how I will be able to wash my hair." 

"You could ask someone to help you do it, I suppose." 

"That seems like the best option." Ferdinand stared at the floor, thinking, before turning back to Hubert with a bright smile. "Hubert, would you do me the favor of washing my hair with your two perfectly functional hands while my arm is healing?" 

Ferdinand would never forget the look on Hubert's face, how his eyes went wide. "Are you sure you want me to?" 

"Hubert, you are my closest friend. I can think of no better person for the job." He realized each word was true as he said it, and began hoping for him to say that he would. 

Hubert sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "I suppose, if it's to help you. When would you prefer me to..." Hubert trailed off as if they were discussing something terribly scandalous. 

"Would it work for you if after dinner, we went up to my room, and you could do it then?" Ferdinand realized with a start that his plan to embarrass Hubert had backfired, and he too was blushing rather profusely. 

"That would be just fine." 

"Good!"

"Well, then. I believe I will be heading back to my chambers to get some work done."

"Do not let me keep you." 

Hubert turned and stalked down the hallway to his room, his usual intimidating aura somewhat compromised by the redness of his ears. Ferdinand allowed himself a fond smile, now that Hubert couldn't see him, and found himself looking forward to the evening. 

/

Ferdinand's whole body felt warm and tingly as he filled the washbasin with water. Hubert stood in the doorway and watched him do it, and Ferdinand could feel his eyes boring into the base of his neck. He couldn't remember what they ate for dinner; ever since they'd made that bargain, it was all he had been able to think about. He had stood up from the table as soon as he could politely do so, and Hubert followed him like a ghost. They were in his room, now, not five feet away from each other. The air felt full of electricity. 

Ferdinand set the washbasin down on the floor, careful not to spill, then knelt down, taking off his coat and shirt. He briefly entertained the notion of taking his undershirt off, as well, but decided that was too embarrassing to even think about. Hubert knelt down beside him and took off his white gloves, revealing equally white long-fingered hands. Ferdinand lay back so his hair was in the water and closed his eyes. 

"Thank you for doing this for me, Hubert." Ferdinand said as Hubert began to pull his hands through his orange locks. "You didn't have to." 

Hubert said nothing, only grunted, and the two of them relaxed into a tense silence; not tense like the second before a fight broke out, but tense like the minute between a firecracker being lit and the bang of light and noise. Ferdinand couldn't seem to stop smiling as Hubert worked his fingers through his hair with surprising gentleness. “You’re quite good at this.” 

“...I used to wash Lady Edelgard’s hair for her. She insisted on doing it herself once we got older. I never thought I would do it for anyone else.” Hubert added mirthfully. 

Ferdinand felt oddly jealous at the mention of Lady Edelgard; not a new feeling, but strange that he should feel it now, with something like this. They fell into a comfortable silence after that, Ferdinand slowly relaxing more and more, until Hubert accidentally brushed a particular spot just behind his ear that made him jump. 

“Oh? Are you ticklish, Ferdinand?” Hubert started teasingly. 

Ferdinand huffed, his face reddening. “Just keep going.” 

It all felt so domestic, this, and Ferdinand felt himself thinking he wouldn’t mind if this scene could simply stretch on forever into eternity. No more war, no more looming responsibility, just Hubert rinsing his hair, working tonic into his scalp, rinsing that out. He had done this by himself countless times without ever sparing it a thought, but every step of the routine took on a new meaning with Hubert doing it. 

Ferdinand opened his eyes to see Hubert's face inches from his own, brow furrowed in concentration as he worked. The heat of the water made his heart melt, and as Hubert drew his hands from the basin Ferdinand leaned up and kissed him. Hubert didn't seem in the least surprised; he put one hand behind Ferdinand's head and kissed him back as easy as breathing. This felt like the natural conclusion to their growing intimacy; the only possible outcome. They broke apart, and Hubert pressed a kiss to the spot just behind Ferdinand's ear that made him whimper like a puppy - perhaps a spaniel. 

"I've been wanting to do that ever since I touched it the first time." Hubert confessed in a voice so quiet it could hardly be called a whisper. 

Hubert toweled off Ferdinand's hair, rubbed oil into the ends to keep them from splitting, and gave him one last kiss goodnight before departing back to his room. "Until tomorrow?" Hubert asked. 

"I shall count the seconds." Ferdinand declared. 

Hubert smiled, really smiled, and chuckled softly. Ferdinand couldn't sleep for hours afterward, even though it had been so utterly relaxing. His last thought before finally drifting off was wondering how he would ever cope when his hand fully recovered, and he would be able to wash his hair himself.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the closest to sex they ever get. know this.


End file.
